<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Shade by strawberriesandtophats</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079282">Shade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats'>strawberriesandtophats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Musketeers (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dogs, Friendship, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On days like this in the very midst of the hunt, horses dripping with sweat and the dogs barely a blur at their feet, Treville was glad to leave the worries of Paris behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Louis XIII de France &amp; de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On days like this in the very midst of the hunt, horses dripping with sweat and the dogs barely a blur at their feet, Treville was glad to leave the worries of Paris behind. The king was laughing, bright as bells as they decided to rest for the day and patted horses on their necks. In the stories of Treville’s childhood that always began: “Once, there was a king…”, these kings blurred until they were one eternal one.</p>
<p>But that was not the case.</p>
<p>Treville knew perfectly well that Louis was a human being instead of a symbol.</p>
<p>He was it in the way that the branches slammed into Louis’s face as he forgot to duck because he was too intent on his goal, in how ragged his breathing got when they’d been riding for too long, in how his eyes flickered uncertainly to Treville when there was an unfamiliar sound in the forest.</p>
<p>It was Treville’s job to ensure that he was safe.</p>
<p>And in a very real way, it was good to see the king standing on the ground instead of going very fast indeed. It meant that it was easier to keep an eye on him.</p>
<p>Now he was surrounded by hunting dogs, all specially bred and trained and so very happy to have spent the day doing what they were made to be doing. Jumping over logs, kicking up earth and dust and wading over rivers with their pack, only one thought in their heads and the thrill of the chase racing in their bloodstreams.</p>
<p>“They’re good boys, aren’t they?” Louis said, petting the dogs that barked and rolled over at his feet, whining in delight as soon as they realized that they were being given attention.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Treville said. “They’ve worked hard today.”</p>
<p>The smile on Louis’s face was easy, his hair was sweaty and he smelled like horse. The day was scorching, but it was cool under the trees and the breeze was so fresh that Treville wanted to bottle some of it to take back home.</p>
<p>“It’s good to get away,” Louis said, looking at Treville like a schoolboy that had snuck away from the teacher. “Even if I should not voice such things out loud.”</p>
<p>“It’s true,” Treville said, bending down a little to pet the oldest dog, whose muzzle was beginning to lighten even further. In the distance, he could see the flash of red that meant that the Cardinal was beginning to pace around, worrying about their whereabouts.</p>
<p>“We should be getting back, I suppose,” Louis said, clearly having seen Richelieu as well.</p>
<p>They’d go into the tent, where there were royal duties to be observed, food to be eaten and people that wanted to speak with him.</p>
<p>Treville looked around the empty clearing, aware that he had his spyglass, his sword and more than a few daggers on his person. The only sounds being made were the rustling of the grass and the dogs having the time of their life.</p>
<p>“Why be a king if you can’t do as you please for a while,” Treville said lightly. “Pet the dogs as long as you like, your majesty. I’ll stand guard.”</p>
<p>Louis looked up from scratching a dog behind the ears. The smile had graduated to becoming a full-on grin by now.</p>
<p>“I’ll do that,” he said, picking up the youngest dog and holding him in his arms and praising him for his diligence to his duties. “I think we all deserve a little moment to ourselves.”</p>
<p>Treville breathed out, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his eyes alert as the king attempted to pet as many dogs as possible at once, practically outshining the sun with his happiness.</p>
<p>He could deal with Richleieu’s bad mood later, with the unhappy tilt of the queen’s head and his Musketeers’ questions.</p>
<p>Later.</p>
<p>For now, they’d breathe easy.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>